


Daughter of Fodlan

by LycheeCannon



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-08-11 23:10:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycheeCannon/pseuds/LycheeCannon
Summary: During the restoration of Garreg Mach, Sylvain chances upon a familiar choral nun who fled during the fall of the monastery and became a village healer. The war has left her with a fear of interaction with others except for some orphans she has taken care of.Requests here: bbnoodles.tumblr.comTalk to me here: https://twitter.com/BbNoodles1





	1. Goddess Messenger

The monastery stood out from the peaks like tangled, broken tree limbs—the once pristine church had fallen into disarray in the five years since it had fallen.

Within, injured but victorious battalion members patched their wounds as the ragtag resistance set up camp within the collapsed walls of hallowed ground. There was only one healer—Mercedes—who had long since used up the charges of her healing magic on the important officers and she now flitted from patient to patient cauterizing wounds and wrapping cuts in linen. Standing behind her, their de-facto leader shook her head worriedly. Sylvain stood a few paces away, taking a break from helping disinfect wounds so that he could stretch his cramped legs.

“Mercedes, are you sure there isn’t another mage here who can use healing magic?” 

“Professor, you know that Annette is hopeless with white magic… There’s no other way.” Mercedes pursed her lips in a tight line. Only yesterday, she had been forced to choose between the lives of a mercenary from Sreng and one from Gautier. She’d only been able to decide based on the Gautier soldier probably needing an amputation which would only further put a strain on their medicinal resources. Though she hadn’t said anything to anyone, she had wept bitter tears into her pillow that night, wishing that there was another way.

“We’ve only been here two weeks and we’ve already had too many casualties; we can spare the coin to bring in another healer, we don’t have another choice…” Byleth chewed on the end of her thumbnail. 

“We’re short on linens now too,” Sylvain chirped “We really need to replace them before the expedition next month.”

Byleth threw up her arms and massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “Sylvain do you mind going into the lower village to get some?” I fear that we can’t really spare anyway here right now.” He nodded pensively. He’d been putting off going into the village for a long time. In his youth, that would have been his first stop but with everything that had happened to them, to the world, it almost felt wrong. 

The village looked run down and quite frankly, poor. Sylvain worried that they might not even have any linens to spare. He meandered around, trying to find an open shopfront to no avail. Everyone he stopped to ask simply looked away and chose not to respond to him, even the women! 

Finally, he came upon a child sitting by the edge of the road— “Little guy? Could you point me in the dir—” Sylvain stopped short, seeing that the child was bleeding terribly from a head wound. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a monogrammed napkin, apply it with pressure to the wound. “Do you have any family who can patch you up?” 

The little boy nodded slowly, pointing in the direction that Sylvain had come from. Sylvain hoisted the little boy onto his back, walking in the direction the boy pointed until he came upon a small but tidy shack—he could see smoke rising from the roof.

He knocked on the door to no avail but on the second knock, the boy called out to the occupants.

“Merry! I’m hurt!” Immediately the door flung open and a blue haired woman came out and practically engulfed the boy in a hug.

“Don’t even scare me like that again, Jan! When you didn’t come home last night we were worried for the worst.” She held the young boy’s face away from her own for a moment, inspecting him, when she caught sight of his head wound her lips parts worriedly. Her hands briefly glowed with a restoration spell and the wound receded into a dark bruise on the little boy’s head.

She gestured for the two to come inside the shack and she immediately gestured for Jan to sit at a small table in the room while she bustled around boiling water. A couple more kids emerged from the woodwork; all less than ten years old. They looked upon him curiously, one brave little girl came to press her bare hands to his armor.

“Who are you?” Sylvain asked curiously, he hadn’t seen any young women in the lower town during his expedition so far. From what he had heard, the majority had fled when the initial attack took place. She looked up from the pot she was filling with water and surveyed him warily.

“My name is Meredith—I don’t want any trouble. I appreciate you bringing Jan back here, thank you so much.” She tipped her head forward in gratitude, and glared at the boy, making him pipe up in thanks as well. Her voice was very quiet, if not a bit scratchy as if she were recover from illness. 

“I’m Sylvain, I’m one of the Faerghus knights that’ve taken up residence up at Garreg Mach.” Immediately her eyes widened and she drew the nearest child away from him. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say… “I’m no trouble, I swear. I can leave if that makes you more comfortable. I’m honestly just here to buy linens.”

She let out a breath she’d been holding and nodded, loosening her grip on the children behind her. “You can get them from the general store, the password to shop there is ‘Goddess Messenger’. The word ‘Goddess’ fell oddly from her mouth, as if she were unused to saying it or scared to voice it aloud. The more Sylvain looked at her the more familiar she looked to him—had she been one of his dalliances back when he was a student? He thought he’d remember eyes as brilliantly verdant as her’s. All in all, she was beautiful but on the too thin side—how had she been feeding all of the children? They all looked well fed and energetic. 

“What happened here?” Sylvain almost bit his tongue as he felt the words leave his mouth. The town used to be vibrant with merchants in every corner and familiar milling about. Now, it resembled the refugee camps he’d seen in Duscar. 

“The Empire did… they…” She pressed a hand to her lips, clearly unwilling to speak more. 

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you don’t have to push yourself.” Sylvain placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting way but as soon as his skin met hers, she flung his hand off and fell backwards onto her bottom, screaming raspily. 

The children pulled him away from her. “Get away from Merry!” He was confused and saw that she had scooted backwards into a corner, as far away as she could get from him. Her hands covered her face but even through the tears and choked voice she croaked out:

“Get out.”


	2. A Difficult Decision (Reader Discretion is Advised)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith is given a hard position to turn down. But the trauma of war may be too strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that there is a nongraphic description/flashback of rape (albeit very short.) Read at your own discretion!

“Merry what are we going to do this month—when I tried to go buy bread from Buren, he told me that the bandits had already raided his entire stock.”

Meredith put down her mending, a pant leg with a rip in it. They’d need to find somewhere to buy some more supplies soon, Jan was outgrowing his clothes at a rapid rate now that he was approaching ten years old. But, as the days went by, more and more people left town and less and less people needed a village healer.

“As long as there’s enough for you and the other children, we will be alright. We still have much from our root cellar.” She hoped that the children did not see her hands shake slightly at the prospect of planning for the hard winter ahead given the lack of resources. Their money was starting to run low, not many people could afford medical care anymore and she did not have any other way of supporting the little family of misfits. 

She felt a hand on her own, Jan’s determined face looking defiantly up at her own. “Merry you never eat even when you tell us you do. If you tell us not to lie then why do you lie to us all the time.” A couple of the other children chimed in. It was true, when food was low, it was what they had to do to survive. The children suffered if they went hungry. But for her, all that happened was her hands shook slightly and her vision became slightly blurry.

“I bumped into the man that was here a week ago and he told me that Garreg Mach is hiring a new healer—I think you should do it.” 

Ah. She remembered him well. He had been so tall, impossibly tall for her little shack and despite him graciously bringing an injured Jan home as he stumbled around in the streets, she had forced him to leave. After, she’d gone to the river and scrubbed her shoulder red and raw. 

Meredith looked at the determined batch of children, ones that she’d pulled from the burning Garreg Mach from the nursery and desperately protected because there was nothing left for her to protect. She had only ever known the monastery—been left there as a baby. The moment the attack started she’d be assigned to the nursery and within an hour knew that there was no hope. 

But that did not mean there was no hope left for the children. 

“Jan, I will think about it. But it should only be our last resort.” Anything for the children. Anything to keep them safe through the upcoming winter.

The sweet little boy nodded-- looking back at his adoptive siblings who looked back at Meredith with varying expressions. She felt exhausted. Despite the lack of customers needing healing, she'd been wandering around the quarter, offering alms and healing to those who could not afford it because it felt _wrong_ for her to go to sleep when she still had any spells left in her for the day. She could go work up at the monastery but in all honesty, the pain was too fresh, even half a decade later. She could feel the grubby hands on her, feel the fire licking her skin, feel the way her heart strained out of her chest as she carried a child on her back and a baby on each arm with two older kids trailing at her skirts as she bounded through the corridors, desperately trying to find a way out of the fallen stronghold.

Meredith could still feel the sinking feeling of dread as she hid the children in the bushes near the stables as she heard the loud feet of soldiers breaking into the main area. She could still feel sets of young eyes on her as she desperately gave herself away so that they would not be discovered. Jan, the oldest, tells her that he covered the younger kids' eyes but she wonders if he did.

_ Large hands held her down and stripped her. She remembered kicking with every ounce of might left in her body, screaming until she was sure that she would never be able to sing again. Then the disgusting man forced his lips upon her’s. _

_Meredith bit down hard, tasting his blood in her mouth but her victory was short lived as he backhanded her hard. Her neck snapped to the left and she tasted her own blood in her mouth. _

_She felt the bare skin of his legs between her own and knew that it was over. _

_It was only the first time that night._

_The one forced her to look at his with a rough grip on her neck. When she struggled even harder, he only pressed down until she felt that he would crush her windpipe. _

_Good. She had thought. Kill me. Put me out of my misery. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew I didn't know how graphic to make that-- I hope I got across what happened to her during the way with some level of clarify. There will be more exploration in later chapters. What'dya think? Let me know in the comments!


	3. The Stables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith makes the difficult choice to go to the monastery after one of the children falls ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next installment! Make sure to re-read chapters 1 and 2 as they've been edited pretty significantly (8/16/2019) to fix some story elements and some downright embarrassing typos. Also the title changed! Because I'm thinking now that she'll be between Sylvain AND Felix-- I'm going to be playing with that dynamic a little.

The third morning Keira did not wake from her fever, Meredith knew she had no choice.

She had scrapped together every last piece of gold in their home but money could not buy what was not for sale. Keira needed medicinal herbs, and soon.

She had gone to the general store and found that it had closed. He had moved up to the monastery for protection, they said. Jan was the only child who saw her collapse in front of the stall, crying into her hands because she knew that she no longer had a choice in the matter. She would sooner return to the place that haunted her every dream before letting one of the children who relied on her die because of her selfishness.

After rallying the children and taking up Keira in her arms, she made the trek up to the main monastery gates. Jan and Amon, the oldest two, carried the entirety of the small family’s belongings in two knapsacks. The soldiers standing atop the ramparts called down at her, asking her why she was there. 

Meredith’s hands felt clammy and her already damaged voice felt even worse. One soldier came out of a side entrance and despite them wearing a totally different uniform than the Adrestian one, her entire body tensed and she felt that she might lose her meager dinner to the ground.

“I—I’m here to work as a healer… if you’ll have me.” She steeled herself but still could not bring herself to look him in the eye. He asked her who told her about the position and while she could not pull the name of the mysterious man from her head, she gave them a vague description of him. The soldier looked warily upon her and disappeared into the monastery briefly. 

The man who they returned with was not the overly friendly redhead from before, instead, it was a man with dark blue hair and piercing orange eyes. Meredith avoided eye contact, too afraid to look upon a man, let alone one so intimidating.

“Well? Aren’t you coming in?” He barely spared her another glance before walking back through the open door, after a quick glance at the soldier, she hurriedly followed behind him.

“So you’re the young mother Sylvain’s been griping about for half a month.” Felix mused more to himself than anything else. “Do you talk or are you also a mute?”

“Um… no, I can speak. I’m here to—”  
“Work. I know. I’m bringing you to work.” Meredith stopped walking and stood her ground for a moment—they had barely walked into the merchant area of the entrance foyer and she could already feel her stomach dropping. Jan tugged at her skirts, motioning for her to stop walking. She glanced down at the little boy and the little girl in her arms and steeled herself.

“I… I have one condition. There are six young children I take care of—I am not their mother but I’ve… I’ve dedicated my life to them these past few years. One is sick… I…” She stumbled over her words, unsure of how to proceed, the blue haired man stared at her disinterestedly, barely paying attention to what she said.

“Show Sister Merry more respect!” Amon hollered at the man, “Merry is all we’ve got!” Meredith immediately grabbed the little boy’s hand and tugged him closer to her, shushing him under her breath.

“I will do whatever you ask. I used to be a… I’m skilled in healing magic. All I ask is that someone in your camp gets Keira some elderflower for her fever.” 

The man scoffed, blew a strand of hair out of his face and addressed her again. “Yeah, you’re not a smart one, are you? We’re headed to the infirmary. You can do whatever you do with the little brats and then get to work.”

The rest of their walk was quiet. The children had not been inside the monastery for five long years as it was a den of thieves for a long time during its abandonment. The Adrestian Empire relentless hunted down former clergymen and nuns, the crime of worshipping Sothis was punishable by death. The Empress had taken care to write down the name of every member of the church while she studied and their papers were invalidated. The only reason Meredith had been able to live near Garreg Mach at all was that the soldiers took her for dead after they had brutalized her. 

After they had tortured and taken her, she had lost consciousness for a long time—their distant laughter rang in her ears long after her eyes failed her. The taste of her blood like lead in her throat. When she had awoken, she was greeted by the faces of some very worried children. They dragged her into the bush they were hiding in and she almost reprimanded them for endangering themselves but instead had drawn the rough sack they had found in the stables around her bare body and pulled them all close to wait out the sacking of their home.

The infirmary was a mess—the entire main hall was converted into a place to stage the injured. Rows and rows of people lay in various states of distress while a single blond woman bustled about. Even from a distance, Meredith could tell she was already over the limit of how many healing spells she could cast a day—her light magic felt weaker than her S rank, perhaps she was a B or a low A rank.

Meredith left the kids at the edge of the first row of cots and gently stepped over to where the blond woman was stooped over a man a deep gash on his shoulder. 

“I… I still have the strength for at least thirty-six healing sessions today… you seem overworked. A red-haired man told me you could use the assistance?” The blonde whipped around in surprise and with a start, recognized her.

“Sister Meredith!” Though she had not recognized her at first, Meredith gazed at the woman’s face and realized that it was the devout girl that often came to train in the choir when she was still the choirmaster. “I did not realize… I’m so happy that you are alright. Your voice… Oh Goddess, what you must have been through.” Mercedes threw her arms around the smaller woman and it was not long before the two of them shed bitter tears. 

“I was hiding in low town with the children who were in the nursery when the attack began. One of them is sick… please.” Mercedes only regarded her for a moment, curiosity as to how Meredith had survived persecution bubbling inside of her but the look in the younger woman’s eyes told her too much to digest.

“Yes… of course. If you’ll finish up with this row, I’ll go take a look at what the child needs—” She glanced over at the edge, where a small girl was feverishly leaned against an older boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you feel? Good? I love any and all feedback/thoughts/comments! :)


	4. Thankfullness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith spends her first evening at the monastery and runs into a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter~! I played a little with Sylvain and Meredith's dynamic along with some exploration of the backstory.

Meredith wiped the back of her hand across her mouth from her knelt position in front of her chamber pot. She had been given quarters in the first-floor dormitories after she specifically requested not to be assigned to the nunnery living quarters. The children were settled in the room next door.

Being at Garreg Mach made her feel sick. After she had overcame her initial fright of returning to the building, after the bustling rows and rows of wounded battalions she tended to, the sinking dread came at her with full force the moment she returned to her assigned room and sank to the floor. 

It was the cadence of life for the past half decade. The cold sweat, followed by the hyperventilation, followed by the tunneling of her vision, followed by the feelings of hands crushing her throat. 

Quite frankly, it was humiliating—a strange brushing by her in the market could set her off, a child bringing up an interaction with a soldier, the supposedly gentle hand of a Faerghusian supporter on her shoulder, _anything_ could send her spiraling.

She’d barely made it to the chamber pot in time before she vomited. Blood rushed up into her mouth and she spat it out, the iron taste only made her vomit more. She did not eat, usually, because it made no different whether she did or not. Meredith signed and looked down at the wasted stew—the richest food she’d had in almost three years. There had even been beef- something most of the children had never even remembered trying. Little Orial had looked up at her and told her: “I’m happy we came here, Merry.” She did not have the heart to tell him that she did not agree. She merely smiled and gently fished some chunks of meat out of her bowl and dropped them into each of the children’s. Though they all protested, they all looked happy to tuck in. 

Despite it developing outpost stationed for Kingdom forces, the monastery was now well stocked. For that, she was glad. Mercedes told her that Keira had awoken shortly after they administered elderflower and despite Meredith’s desperate longing to go see the little spunky girl away and on the road to recovery, she could not bring herself to go into the building that once housed her quarters and the orphans’ wing.

Worried that the children might burst into her room at any moment to see her shameful vomiting, she quietly closed the lid and took it outside—intent on emptying it in the landfill behind the greenhouse. It was well into the night and no one would be around, she hoped.

However, on her way back, she encountered a familiar red-haired man leaving one of the other dormitory rooms. Meredith veered left, intent of avoiding any interaction with him but he caught her eye from a distance and jogged over to her before she could reach her door.  
“You came!” He looked different out of the intimidating armor he wore, though just as huge. He towered easily two heads above her. “I was really hoping you’d come. I’m Sylvain, by the way.”

Meredith felt uncomfortable at the proximity and backed away from him a few paces, coming to grip both each of her shoulders. “Yes… thank you for having the children and me. I’m sorry I forced you to leave without properly thanking you for helping Jan.” Sylvain smiled easily at her and shook his head.

“No, thank you for coming. I know that everyone has their quirks after the war. I’m just happy you and the children are here, now. It’s not safe in low town.” _Quirks, huh?_ That’s one way to describe it.

“Yes, thank you. Have a good evening.” Meredith made to walk past him back to her room but he outstretched a hand and she recoiled, waiting for the panic inducing human touch but he stopped himself short.

“I spoke to Mercedes about you—she… well I’m going to be honest she was surprised you were alive at all. Were you a student?” Meredith bit the inside of her mouth uncomfortably, the familiar nausea settling in her belly.

“No. I was not a student.” 

Sylvain regarded her for a moment and signed, acknowledging that she had no interest in chatting. He sighed and reached a hand into his hair to ruffle it, then tipped his chain down as he bowed his head.

“Well, regardless, it sounds like you were here and that we failed to protect you and those kids when the monastery fell. I’m sorry.” He walked past her as she stood there shell-shocked. He had been blunt, and despite seeming like a jovial fellow his eyes spoke of guilt and suffering. No one had ever apologized for what happened to her before. It broke her heart that she did not even tell him how much she appreciated it. Her eyes felt wet as she felt a few tears roll down her cheeks against her will. 

She whipped around in her spot and raised her voice louder than she had in years, “Sylvain!” He paused, only about 20 paces across the courtyard—Meredith swallowed the knot at the back of her throat and called as clearly and as loudly as she could—“Thank you.” Her shoulders shook with the effort and she was she sure looked a mess but Sylvain smiled tenderly back at her.

“Thank me when we’ve won this war and I make the Empire pay for what they’ve done to you and all the other people they’ve hurt.” He waved at her and turned up some stairs towards the training grounds.

Meredith returned to her room only to find a dogpile of orphans buried under her covers. When the door opened, Elora opened her eyes and sat up reaching out to the older girl. “Sister Merry I can’t sleep without you around!” Meredith smiled at her and ran her hands through the little girl’s hair tenderly, the other hand coming to stroke Amon’s downy head. 

“I know, sweetling, me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like it? I personally really thought the bit at the end with the kids was cute. Sylvain might seem a little out of character from his normal flirty self but in his support conversations it comes across that he's a pretty intelligent guy and probably realizes the gravity of why flirting with Meredith is totally not ok.
> 
> At this point, they've just come back to Garreg Mach. Dimitri is 23, Sylvain is 24, Felix is 23, Byleth is 21 (or 26 if you count the 5 yr time skip), and Meredith is 23.
> 
> Also! Here are the kids she's looking after and their ages:
> 
> Jan (M)- 10 yrs old  
Amon (M) - 9 yrs old  
Titus (M) - 9 yrs old (He is the only child she did not save from the Sacking Of Garreg Mach, I'm thinking he was a stray that she picked up outside of the monastery  
Keira (F)- 7 yrs old  
Orial (M)- 5 years old  
Elora (F)- 5 years old


	5. The Alley Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night is oft the hardest. Meredith comes to terms with her new situation and mobilizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an exploration chapter going over the first day Meredith left the monastery.

The first days after the Sacking of Garreg Mach had been the hardest. 

Sadly, in the aftermath of the invasion, Garreg Mach was shut down—anyone leaving or entering needed papers and hers’ had been invalidated as had all of the other clergy members. No one fleeing the city would take extra mouths with them so separating from the children was not an option.

Leaving the church hours after the soldiers had already cleared out was difficult—Meredith managed to sneak the small group out through a gap in one of the walls to get to low town. From the moment she’d opened her eyes after the assault to the moment she laid the last child down to rest, emotions ceased to exist. She felt as if she were a specter in another’s’ body. The little house had been empty—recently vacated by the looks of it and it was tucked away in the outskirts of the city.

When the whimpers of the babies fell quiet as they dreamed, Meredith went outside to pull water from the well so that she could clean herself off. When she made sure the coast was clear and undressed, she saw for the first time what the soldiers had done to her body and screamed. Only—her once melodic voice sounded raspy and the force of getting sound out sent her reeling to her knees, blood flooding into her throat. She desperately pressed white magic into her palms and held herself in a death grip, weeping silently for everything that she’d lost.

_I could end this all by throwing myself into this well. _ She had thought. But then instantly felt guilty at the five lives sleeping ten meters away that were now entirely dependent on her. She clasped her hands to pray—hoping that Sothis would send guidance but when she closed her eyes as hard as she could and used the last of the whispers left in her throat to beg for help, Meredith heard nothing. She’d torn the Crest of Seiros from her rosary and thrown it into the well in anger.

_Fuck Sothis. What sort of cruel Goddess would let this happen to her subjects? _

When she raised the bucket up to douse herself, she saw the necklace sitting at the bottom of the pail. Meredith immediately snatched it into her hands and wept bitter tears. _Goddess be merciful to your lost servant. _

She hugged the rosary as close to herself as she could, wishing the Goddess would speak to her—even to just offer an encouraging sign. When she heard nothing, she sighed and stood—feeling a trickle of liquid down her inner thigh. Her eyes welled up and she felt the crushing shame of losing her innocence to enemy soldiers. When they were fleeing to the church walls, she’d seen the other bodies of nuns that had been brutalized and the bashed in heads of priests that had tried to help them. 

The soldiers had taken express pleasure in defiling the nuns. She saw some had pinned scraps of clergy-wear to their uniforms as if they were badges of honor. Empire soldiers were barbarians serving an evil woman. But they had won. In stories, the righteous always won the day. Seiros slayed her foe against all odds in single combat, Loog bested his opponents through his faith and his resourcefulness, Blaiddyd returned to his lover to the North. 

Why had the evil won? Had the Goddess forsaken them?

Meredith had five children with her, all under five years old. Each of the children had the clothes on their back but she did not even have that. She wore the rough sack that the children had found in the stables for two weeks while she worked up the courage to go find something else to wear. Winter would be coming, and it’d be cold. As much as it hurt her, she knew that she’d freeze if she did not have anything to wear. There had been nothing in that little sack that’d be of any use to her for warmth.

So, with the heavy shame in her heart that she already felt, she slipped the sack back on and ventured out into the city under the cover of dark. It was mostly empty, everyone with any sense left in them had left quickly.

Meredith hoped that someone was around—would feel mercy for a woman of the Goddess and offer alms. But when she knocked on the doors of homes with candles alight, no one answered. 

But, as she followed a particularly bright light leading down an alleyway, she saw a corpse slumped against a wall bearing a torch. Its features were sunken and wallow and she could tell that it was already starting the putrefy. Meredith had seen corpses during funeral processions but never one as raw as the one before her. It wore a simple woolen dress along with a thick scarf. In her desperation, the choice was clear. Meredith cried once more, weeping and begging the Goddess for another way.

_Please do not make me defile this corpse just to have clothes on my back._ The Goddess did not speak back to her, but the way the flames above the corpse flickered steeled her resolve.

Carefully, she knelt and whispered the Last Rites to the body. Then, she gingerly stripped it of the clothing it was wearing down to its undergarments, grimacing at the bruising on the corpses’ hips. It was obvious that this woman had been brutalized as well. Meredith respectfully redressed the corpse with the sack she was wearing and covered herself in the shawl. The dress would need to be washed as it was covered in opportunistic insects and rotting flesh.

The smell made Meredith want to vomit but she held it down within herself, knowing that it might be a long time before she had another good meal and every single ounce of energy she could keep would need to be preserved. 

She rushed back to the small shack, relieved to find the children still sleeping soundly. She managed to find a small chunk of soap in the larder and returned to the well to scrub the dress clean as well as herself. Her skin was raw and bleeding in some places when she was done but she swore to herself that she’d never be weak again. If anyone tried to touch her, she would make sure they never touched anything again. She would protect the five small souls in her care down to her last breath.

Once she finished, she put on the wet dress and return to the streets, determined to collect what she could from the piles and piles of bodies—intent of giving her and the children the best chance they could get.

The next day she traded all the gold beads on her rosary as well as the gold chain linking them to a man with a position in the village that she saw often at service for false papers for her and the children. He asked, surprised, if she’d left the church since he’d last seen her. She smiled through the tears welling in her eyes and said that she had. The pendant with the Crest of Seiros sat heavy in her pocket but she shook off the feeling of guilt.

_Byleth has died, Rhea is missing._

_Any clergy member is to be killed on sight._

_Anyone found to be harboring sentiments for the Church will be immediately executed._

The day after she sold her long beautiful hair to a merchant leaving town for enough gold to buy a sewing kit and a small knife. The crucified corpses of Church sympathizers lining the streets on her walk back to the small shack stared at her back as she walked past. Her shoulders shook as her eyes filled with hot tears and her vision narrowed, but she never looked back. 

_Sothis, forgive me for I have sinned. And I will continue to. I want to live. Oh Goddess, I want to live. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I'd love any thoughts/comments/feedback in the comments section!


	6. Presence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth asks an impossible favor from Meredith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short and sweet one! Let me know what you think!

“Do you have any combat experience?” Byleth sat in the chair opposite to her with one leg elegantly crossed over the other. Her complexion was sallow and she looked as if she had not slept in days because honestly, she had not. 

“I… no. I’ve never fought before.” 

“Well I’m going to need you to know the basics. You’re the only healer other than Mercedes and we’re about to be attacked. If you do not know how to defend yourself, then that’s a problem.” Meredith’s heart dropped into her belly, a sinking feeling of panic settling over her. “I think you’d make a passable holy knight. How are you with horses?”

“Please… Byleth you must understand… I, I can’t. I won’t!” Her hands shook terribly and she balled them into fists, hoping that the leader could not see. 

“I heard what you did when one of the wyvern riders grabbed you—that trick you did was pretty neat. Could you do that on command on the field?” Byleth leaned forward, intent on getting answers out of the small girl.

Meredith had always had a penchant for magic but none for physical exercise. She was small and frail—the only scuffles she’d ever been in were over the five years living in low town where thieves and drunkards would occasionally try to ransack their small shed. As it turns out—though few people would ever try to find out—pouring an abundance of white magic into someone past the point of healing could cause significant damage. 

The first time, she’d been held down by a thief while she heard the screams of Jan standing in front of the larder door, protecting the precious children inside. Her mind went painfully blank as she felt the thief pawing at her clothes and something within her snapped. She pressed her thumbs into his eyes and pressed down, immobilizing him. She felt the squish of viscera under her nails and cried out as she pulled herself to her feet, shaking like a leaf. As another disgusting man came up to strike her for injuring her friend, she’d grabbed his arm and poured a healing spell into his chest with such intensity that his skin bubble—she did not let him go until she knew that his internal organs had been liquified. 

Jan told her that she did not wake for over a day after she pulled the stunt. But, the children, ever mindful of her, had already cleaned up the mess by the time she woke. She did not speak for a few days but used the money they found off of the thieves to buy new clothes for everyone in their entire family—they burnt the bloody ones too dirty to clean in the hearth.

They did not speak of that incident, or any of the eight that happened hence. But, after each attack, Jan took up more and more responsibility within the household, quickly followed by Amon and Tidus. The little girls wanted to learn white magic so every morning they’d practice in the kitchen.

When her hair grew long enough again, she sold it once more to buy each of the children a small dagger for protection. The merchant told her that it was trendy in the upper crust society of the Empire to have dark hair and many women relied on wigs to get the coloring.

“Byleth, if you…if you intend to have me fight, I will leave.” Meredith firmly responded to the woman, “I will not kill anyone.”

Byleth sighed and shook her head—sparking an iota of anger. “But if you cannot fight, how will you protect people. You care about protecting people, don’t you?” 

Meredith stood sharply, toppling the chair she sat in only moments before. “By not abandoning the weak—where were _you_ when the world was falling to pieces? Just because you’re back now doesn’t mean that you understand anything about what we did to survive.” She spun around and walked out of the war room, not looking back at the flabbergasted woman inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys and gals enjoyed this :) Feedback? Questions? Hanging out? Join me in the comments, I read everything!


	7. Impending Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Empire army marches closer, Meredith meets an old friend coming back to the monastery.

Life at the monastery fell into a plodding rhythm. Though news of the impending Empire strike force marching to Garreg Mach sat heavy at the bottom of everyone’s stomach, life was all about consolidating allies from neighboring regions and rally support wherever possible. There was not a dull moment to spare.

Every morning, Meredith would rise before the sun to check on her patients. She would crawl from the comfy dogpile the orphans would surround her in, tucking the blanket over Orial’s splayed body—he never covered himself properly and it was a wonder he had yet to catch a cold. She’d tiptoe across the courtyard, through the dining hall, into the great hall where the familiar sight of rows upon rows of wounded greeted her. Walking up and down each row, she’d meticulously revisit those who had been in bad condition the day before to verify that their state was improving. 

Meredith never touched any of the injured—thankfully her white magic was strong enough to permeate a short distance from her hands. The last time one of the battalion men had grabbed her in his panic, she’d screamed and injected so much white magic into him that he had promptly lost consciousness. No one saw her for the rest of the day. The next morning, she’d returned as if nothing had happened. No one ever tried to touch her again.

Sometimes Jan would come along and she would quietly coax him to practice his own magic on small cuts and bruises. He was also responsible for helping disinfect wounds.

She was straightforward, sparing not a single word extra with any patient. She would come to them, heal as much as she could and move on to the next person, never answering any of their questions or speaking to any of them.

This morning was a little different. Some battalion members were already in the Great Hall, carrying between them a couple of people—one of whom she instantly recognized. Sylvain was among them, looking worse for wear but still alert and standing tall. She vaguely remembered that they went on an expedition to a nearby village to root out some bandits.

She lifted her skirts and bounded over to the old man. He lifted his head exhaustedly and eyes widened as he saw her. She had believed that Father Terra had died with the rest of the high-ranking clergy when the Empire attached. He looked well beyond his sixty years—his hair had all turned white and his face was wrinklier than she remembered.

“Little Merry—you’re alive…?” He waved off the soldier propping him up and brought two hands up to stumble towards her. Meredith instantly took two steps back.

“I saw them raping you when I was fleeing… I did not know that you had any chance of survival. Otherwise I would have… I would have…” He coughed wetly and he could barely keep his eyes open.

_Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. _

Meredith’s eyes widened and her heart pounded like the hoofbeats of a thousand stallions galloping across the plains. The pit of her stomach felt leagues deep.

The old man pitched forward and Sylvain was there in an instant to catch him before he fell to the stone floors. Meredith did not respond; her hands were balled at her sides. _He saw? _ Father Terra was her oldest confidant at the monastery. 

He had been the one to let her mother into the monastery over twenty years ago. Rhea had reprimanded him for it—he’d let a pregnant whore into the holiest grounds in Fodlan. 

It mattered not since she did not even last a fortnight. By then, she had expired, leaving behind a tiny premature daughter. Seteth was adamant that the child be cast out. 

_Whoredaughter. _ They had said. 

But Father Terra saw her differently. He had been the one to sit with her in the library to teach her white magic. He had been the first person to nurture her love in music—teaching her all sorts of folk songs and hymns from all over Fodlan. He had been the one to pull the twigs out of her hair when the other orphans beat her in the courtyard. He had been the one to smile brightly at her when she announced her intention to dedicate her life to the church. Now, he was the one that could have pulled those disgusting men off of her when she was being brutalized yet chose to save his own skin instead. He had white magic. He could have fought. But instead, he ran.

Sylvain felt disgusted—he knew that she had suffered in the war but the violation of a nun, or anyone really, was one of the evilest things a person—let alone persons— could do. Sylvain had laid with countless women over his skirt chasing career never anyone remotely close to being unwilling.

He looked at her thoughtfully—she’d never been sociable but she looked downright furious and he could not blame her. Her eyes flickered to the man in his grasp for a brief moment and then she stomped out of the Great Hall, leaving behind the cacophony of wounded soldiers.

Meredith was small—only coming up to his shoulders and thin. It’d be easy to subdue her. Bile came to his throat at the thought of just how easy it would be to hold her—to force her. Her limbs were delicate and her faces was a set of doe eyes framed with dark lashes. The other night, he’d seen her in her sleeping clothes—usually she wore tall collars. Now he knew that the collars covered the myriad ropey scars on her throat.

Mercedes had told him that Meredith was the nun who used to do all the choral orchestrations for service—if he had ever payed attention to any of those while he slipped in an hour late into the back pew, usually with lipstick marks on his neck, he might’ve recognized her as the lead songstress. It was hard to imagine the raspy voiced, cold girl as the same one that’d produced the beautiful hymns that used to be sung every Saturday before free time.

“Ey Sylvain, I bet she’s fun in the bedroom.” One of his battalion members chirped as he gently lay the clergyman on an empty bedroll. Another’s lazy arm was thrown over his shoulder— “Do you wanna take a stab at her first or can I have the first go?” This was a conversation that happened often between the ginger and his subordinates but today, Sylvain would have none of it. He threw the smaller man’s arm off of him and tightly gripped his collar.

“Stay away from her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are fuel for updates :) Let me know what you think! What you wanna see-- any predictions :)


	8. Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a siege on Garreg Mach and Meredith is brought too close for comfort to the front lines.

The smell of smoke made Meredith feel as if she were suffocating. 

The Adrestian military regiment has arrived sooner than Byleth thought, and in greater numbers than predicted. Garreg Mach was under siege and the odds were not looking good. Despite her wish to stay with the children—in part because she worried that she’d have to make the same escape she made the first time; she was called as support. Every muscle in her body was tense, her stomach churned, her mind raced, and quite frankly every step felt wobbly. 

When she had voiced her displeasure in taking part in the battle, his Majesty had steeled a cold eye at her and told her that if she did not serve on the front lines, she was more than welcome to leave Garreg Mach with the children in tow to be slaughtered by Adrestian scouts. She had looked to Mercedes for support but the older girl had just shaken her head sadly—Meredith understood, she really did. 

They only had one real healer—her. Mercedes was a battle medic. While she could perform most basic healing spells, her dalliance in white magic had headed in the direction of offensive spells, as had Annette’s, in fact all three of them specialized in black magic as it was more useful from a military perspective. They only knew very basic healing spells. Meredith, on the other end of the spectrum, knew no offensive spells whatsoever but excelled at healing and space magic. From what Mercedes had told her, there were other mages in the Blue Lions house—such as Flayn—but they had yet to meet up with them at the monastery. 

“I’m sorry.” Byleth had told her, shaking her head softly and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know we would not ask if it were not dire.” The woman had been awkward with her since their confrontation but Meredith knew that she was making an effort to make amends. She didn’t blame her, one could only imagine the level of stress that Byleth was under, managing a crazed royal in addition to single handedly planning the military strategies.

Two days later, Adrestians attacked, lead by General Randolph. Garreg Mach was besieged by foes on all ends and it was only a matter of time before they breached the monastery walls and slaughtered them all. In the first day of fighting, casualties were low all things considered.

It was not until the second day that the bleakness of the situation started to settle over the overwhelmed defendants. 

The main gate into lowtown was at its limit so Byleth pulled the remained of the troops in towards the monastery walls, splitting her forces in two to defend the two main entrances. Previously, scouts and field medics would bring wounded soldiers to her on stretchers and she would heal them from the marketplace-turned-mock-infirmary. 

Today, they would be defending a gate not twenty feet from where she worked. There were more wounded than ever and Meredith had already started rationing her mana, hoping to the Goddess that it would be enough. She’d had about three hours overnight to rest and recharge her magic but was it enough? Her position was seated on a small bluff looking down at the main gates, she could see the carnage below. Occasionally, over billowing black smoke from the turning homes below, she could see the formation pushing towards the enemy general. 

Her hands hovered, shaking, over the gaping hole in a battalion soldier’s leg, desperately knitting it shut. Sweat beaded at her brow—usually these sorts of injuries required physical contact but she found that despite her best efforts to try, she still could not bring herself to do it. The only healing she’d done through contact that day was a wyvern with a torn wing that could not fly. Wyvern knights were essential on the battle field and so she’d worked her best to try to get the rider and steed ready to go back as soon as possible. 

The hole was just about shut down shouting tore her attention back to her view through the gates—the barricade right outside was on fire but through the raging flames she saw a familiar flash of blue—Felix had rushed back towards the enemy target gate to deter a paladin who had made a run for it and had sliced right through the horse’s belly, sending it hurdling into the spiked bulwark. However, the paladin had managed to land on his feet and thrust his lance straight through Felix’s chest. 

A wave of helplessness washed over her—here she was safe and sound as far away from the fighting as she could possibly get but out there, people were dying to keep everyone safe. Byleth was right, she really was a coward. 

She could see one of the flying units—perhaps Ingrid? —rushing towards him but there wasn’t enough time. 

Unless…

Meredith hadn’t casted the spell in years but there seemed to be no better time to do it. She only had the mana to cast it once and it was inaccurate as best for most people. She grasped around the field as best as she could until she latched onto a thick, corded essence belonging to the cold swordsman. She tugged at it as hard as she could and when she felt the connection between the cord and herself solidify, she cast a rescue spell. From a distance, she could see the paladin pull his lance out and go for the final blow, but his weapon struck dirt as Felix materialized in front of her in a pillar of golden light. She realized with a start that his sword was not included in the rescue spell but after a brief check, thank the Goddess that she had not spliced him.

He was in really, really bad shape. Meredith quickly realized that she wouldn’t even be able to heal him as the wound had folded in on itself, taking part of his jerkin with it. Luckily it wasn’t on the left side of his chest but the wet sound of Felix’s breathing told her that his lung was punctured and he didn’t have much time. Treating a pneumothorax was almost impossible without the proper tools but Meredith luckily had a small penknife in her dress pocket that she used to cut gauze. 

But she’d have to touch him to treat him. Her stomach whirled and her breath felt choppy. She felt like she was going to be sick. 

But, unbidden, came to her mind the faces of the children up in the highest tower with the rest of the civilians, hoping to the Goddess that the men and women outside could hold the line and keep them safe. 

Her hand hovered over Felix’s chest, building up the courage to cut away his ruined shirt so she could get a better look at his injury. She didn’t have time, but she couldn’t bring her shaking hands any closer. 

The commotion from the battle felt like a din and a blur. 

Suddenly, she felt a tight grip on the hand holding the penknife and she screamed, causing one of the previously treated soldiers to bolt up to help her. It was Felix, he was bleeding profusely, blood dribbling out of his parted lips. His hand felt cold, as if the life were draining out of it. 

“You can do this. Face your fears or I will die.” He raised his head to tell her, sweat beading at his brow from the immense effort and pain. 

Her hands shook but she steeled herself. Felix was not one of the men who raped her. He was a cold, if not aloof man who she’d once seen give candy to Jan and helped correct Tidus’ form. He was not a bad man; he did not deserve to die.

She removed the outer jerkin and cut away the shirt he wore underneath to reveal the crushed ribs on his right side. First, she felt around for the gap between his upper ribs and then after using a cleanse spell to clean her knife, plunged it into his chest cavity to release the pressure from his collapsed right lung. Immediately his breathing eased and his brow became a little less furrowed. 

From here, she cast cleanse on the hole and pressed both hands firmly into his shoulder to pour magic into him—the strongest healing spell she had. 

In fourteen minutes, all that was left was a starburst shaped scar. His breathing had eased and near the end of the healing he woke up and looked down at himself, bewildered.

The moment the scar formed and she knew she’d done all she could, Meredith fell back and hyperventilated, breathing hard and eventually crawling away to vomit in a nearby bush. Crying all the while. She almost didn’t notice the soft hand placed on her back, rubbing it almost soothingly. When she realized that it was Felix, already standing with an inferior iron sword in hand and his shirt discarded with just her jerkin on to cover his upper half. She jerked away from his, almost falling into the bush behind her. 

“You did good.” Then, he walked off towards the gate, already going back to help the war effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are fuel for updates :) Let me know what you think! What you wanna see-- any predictions :) 
> 
> In this chapter, I think it's important to recognize that while Meredith doesn't think she owes Byleth anything (who by the way is maybe being too hard on her because of how stressed she is) she does feel a measure of survivors guilt and trauma from the Sacking of Garreg Mach. She feels like she has absolutely no ability to control her own fate and feels guilty for how weak she is. She's a good healer but that means little in the grand scheme of things when she can't defend the people she's supposed to defend. Now, she can't even heal properly because she has such an aversion to touching men. Here, she recognizes that Felix is the strongest soldier in their allied army-- if he falls, that is one less person who can help her keep the children safe. On top of that, she's slowly adapting more to being around more men and remembering that not all of them are bad.


	9. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the battle brings two unlikely people together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Here's the next chapter! I originally had way more in this chapter but ended up splitting it to accommodate a shorter read! Next chapter is all about Meredith and Sylvain-- I'm thinking she's going to be going through a series of turning points soon so she won't be quite as skittish and nervous in the near future.

There was little time to clean up the bodies in the aftermath of the battle. The dead were lumped into mass graves dugs on the outskirts of low town. By some stroke of luck, Faerghus had only lost 67 soldiers while the Adrestians had lost close to 800.

Byleth killed the enemy general and with it, brought about the unconditional surrender of the invaders. Some were brought to the dungeons, others were executed. Meredith slept for a few hours after her overextension of her mana and when she woke it was time to tend to the wounded once more; exhausted, she dragged herself out of a bedroll in the corner of the foyer and went out into the fields. When she exhausted all of her uses and then some to stabilize as many as she could with Mercedes, she visited the children to check on them— relieved that they were unharmed. Each of them huddled against her, gripping her tightly. Meredith gently stroked Amon’s sweaty brow, the boy was so shaken that he could hardly sit still before she settled him back in his bedroll to sleep. Orial and then Keira quickly joined him, relieved that they were safe.

Jan was the opposite, the moment the bells sounded to signal victory, he scampered out to the great hall, intent on seeing Meredith. The little boy then set himself to helping out around the clean up efforts. Eventually, he was relegated to helping cataloging wounded soldiers. 

From across the way, she caught a glimpse of a familiar head of burnt orange hair walking alongside a familiar prickly swordsman—the three made eye contact for a brief moment before she tore her gaze away and went back to her work.

Eventually, her day brought her to the outskirts of the monastery to scrub her hands in the fishing pool. Blood was difficult to get out from under nails. Meredith felt herself being watched— turning to find a familiar mint haired woman on the docks with her.

On their brief walk together, Meredith updated the woman nervously on their infirmary status and strategically left out the incident with Felix. Their walk eventually brought them to the main hall where the wounded were still laid out.

The professor politely asked Meredith if she would be willing to perform the last rites for those going to the hangman’s noose and despite the churning in her gut that it was the right thing to do, she declined and suggested that one of the higher ranked clergymen do it.

_I’m not a nun anymore. I’m only alive to take care of those kids._

Byleth nodded and turned to leave, only to stop a few paces away. She balled and unclenched her fists a few times where Meredith worried that she might strike her but instead, the woman took both of the blue haired girls’ hands in her own and look at her in the eye. Meredith was taken aback, moving to back away but the grip was firm and unyielding.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other day.” Meredith froze, she’d offended the professor, was she about to be asked to leave? “No, no, please don’t look so frightened. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” Byleth’s eyes welled up in a way uncharacteristic of the stoic, ferocious swords woman. Her hands shook terribly and her shoulders heaved with a weight that no one understood. “Meredith, I feel so lost.” The grip on their joined hands loosened and for a moment, Meredith thought about pulling away and rushing away. But, as Byleth moved to release her fingers, she pulled back and clasped them once more, her own hands shaking. The quaking of her stomach belied an urge to vomit but she shoved it down.

“I’m...I am sorry... for what I said to you.” Byleth must not have expected the cold girl to speak to her and looked up in shock, fine tuning her ears to make out the raspy words. Now, Meredith could clearly see the tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

“He—Help me understand.” Byleth sniffed and ran a hand under her nose. “Everyone here is just so glad that I’m here but I’ve failed everyone. I’m so fucking angry that Fodlan is in the sorry state that she is. Dimitri.. oh Goddess, what has he become? I used to...Everyone... I'm such a failure.” In the joy of rediscovering their professor, everyone treated her like porcelain. If she asked what’d happened while she slept, they assured her that it was the future that mattered and that there would be no benefits of telling her what’d happened. She’d gone to everyone—even the loose lipped Sylvain had shaken his head sadly and told her that it best stay buried. Even though his cheery tone was bright, it belied his internal turmoil by the way his grips on the reins of his horse tightened and the whitening of his knuckles. “What the fuck happened? I remember you; you always were there to lead choir on Sundays. What the fuck happened?”

Byleth’s pitch escalated to a broken screech. Down the hall, Meredith saw one of the soldiers in the sick bay sit up to investigate. It would be unbecoming to see their commander in such a state of frenzy.

Meredith moved her shaking hands to the taller girl’s shoulders, rubbing gently the same way she would if Orial or Amon was upset. “Let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

Their hands joined once more and for once, Meredith stopped shaking. She tugged the crying woman into a supply room and found a place for them to sit on two sacks of flour in the corner.

“What...do you remember?” Meredith asked, feeling the pit of her stomach well up.

Byleth sniffed and stemmed her crying with her hands. Wiping at her eyes. “I went to help Rhea and some debris crushed me. The last thing I saw was the soldiers breaking through the main gates. Then.... well then, nothing.”

From there, Meredith told her about how the soldiers burnt Garreg Mach down, going over the general information about what’d happened in the empire and the ensuing fall of Faerghus. About how Dimitri was sentenced to death, how the northern lords struggled and how the Leicester Alliance closed their borders and all the history leading up to when Garreg Mach was once again opened to clergy. It felt strange to talk for so long, and to recount the news from the market stalls and from the backs of grimy news pamphlets smuggled into low town by mercenaries.

Byleth listened intently and didn’t interrupt. She nodded from time to time and by the time Meredith was done, she put her face in her hands and wept once more. Meredith sat at her side, rubbing her back occasionally. Somehow, the quelling feeling in her stomach and hands stayed. Eventually, the mint haired woman looked up at Meredith.

“What about you? What happened to you?” Meredith merely frowned sadly and shook her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Byleth nodded slowly. “Someday I hope you might trust someone enough to share your pain.” She placed a hand at Meredith’s back and looked to the small girl for permission, at the tentative nod, she pulled her into a hug. In a flurry of emotion, Meredith felt the upwelling over emotions she wasn’t even sure she could feel anymore flow from her eyes. The two women held each other and cried for all the pain in the world until well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are fuel <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda playing around here-- what do you think about this? Let me know in the comments!  
This is what I'm thinking I'd like her to look like: https://imgur.com/a/QC47ZOA


End file.
